


Assuming You're Fine

by milktea_matin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Big Brother Dean, Bunker Fic, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Comedy, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Human Castiel, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Older Brother Sam Winchester, Post Season/Series 08 Finale, Season/Series 08, Suggestive Themes, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milktea_matin/pseuds/milktea_matin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several weeks after the events of "Sacrifice", Kevin, Sam, and couple Dean and Castiel are living together in the bunker. Hoping to ease Kevin back into his former life, Sam is appointed his personal tutor for the SAT prep. But the retired prophet thinks that becoming a student again is impossible under the circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assuming You're Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Also channeling my intense dislike of mathematics for this one.

If the world had been a fairer, more reasonable place, in which he had not missed the precious chance to make his rivals bow down in fear and reverence of his superior SAT score, then Kevin Tran would like have been a top student at Harvard University. Or possibly Princeton, whichever had offered to pay more money for him to grace their lecture halls. But unfortunately, some celestial decree from thousands of years before had sealed his fate as a prophet of the Lord. Sure, the title was impressive, and he secretly liked people to know it, but it was more difficult to include on college applications than say, that SAT score he never got.

Therefore, Kevin Tran was feeling just a tiny bit bitter that he had drawn the shortest straw (or rather, been forcibly handed it). He looked absentmindedly at the antique grandfather clock, still dutifully ticking away the minutes. It was nearly one in the morning, but no one in the bunker seemed to be entirely aware of it. This was particularly true of Sam Winchester, his newly appointed home tutor, who was leaning forward expectantly with his hands clasped together resting on the tabletop.

                “I’m not doing this,” said Kevin stiffly, sliding _A Comprehensive Guide to Differential Calculus_ (which contained a subtitle Kevin had mentally replaced with “And Other Things I Don’t Give a Shit About”) across the table with a clear resolve. Sam, however, was accustomed to this negativity and his limitless patience had allowed him to keep up the nightly tutoring sessions for nearly a week. Not that they had made much progress, however. He slid the weighty textbook back to Kevin almost reverently, calmly pointing out which section they needed to review. After that Sam sat back in his chair with a slight smile while Kevin frowned at him. After a moment Sam was about to open his mouth when Kevin stopped him.

                “Not the talk again,” he said with a groan, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “Sam, I’m not going to review any of this. I told you, I’m not taking the SAT! It’s over, alright?” Kevin closed the textbook shut. “ I can’t just go back to my life before all of this and pretend I’m…you know…normal!” There was nothing else for Sam to do in these instances but try and be the reassuring older brother type, a role he rarely had the chance to play.   

                “Look, Kevin…I get it, I do. But you’ve got a future ahead of you, as long as you’ll just give it a chance! Dean and I think it’s the best solution for you. We’ll contact your relatives and then you’ll have a nice, normal apple pie life. And in your case, probably even better.” Kevin rolled his eyes.

                “What’s with you and Dean acting like my parents, anyway? All concerned about what’s best for me…” With that, Kevin snatched Sam’s glass of brandy and took a swig, only to have it promptly confiscated.

                “No drinking, you’re not twenty-one yet,” said Sam, placing the glass out of the prophet’s immediate reach, which was easy considering that his arms were significantly longer.

                “Case in point!” said Kevin with a huff.

                “You know what you need…?” said Sam, ignoring the glare he was getting, “Coffee! It’s what kept me focused while cramming for exams at Stanford. College students swear by it! Why don’t I make some coffee? Then we’ll get back to studying.” Kevin sighed, looking more exhausted than angry at this point. He had not expected his tutor to be quite this impossible and at least some coffee might give him a brief break before being forced to apply his mind to the next set of mind-numbingly dull exercises. He stared down at the cover of the mathematics textbook, decorated with some image of random intersecting shapes that screamed “we don’t’ know what the fuck this is about either”.

                “Fine,” said Kevin, and Sam sprang up almost instantly from his chair, “But let me make it,” he finished, “I like my coffee a particular way and I don’t want to have to explain it.” Sam nodded and sat back down in his chair.

                “Just be back in about ten, okay? I’ll look over the problem set so I can help you,” he said. Sam had told him that self-discipline was the key to good study habits. That meant allotting time to distractions when necessary but always returning to the books before long. Sam and clapped Kevin on the shoulder as the young scholar strode past on his way to the kitchen.

                “As if you can solve them,” Kevin said mockingly under his breath.  The kitchen was not far away, and for the sake of wasting time he had wished it was further. On his way, he looked up again at the giant handwritten list that had been posted on the wall weeks earlier. They were house rules, ten of them in total with one of them crossed off and rewritten several times in progressively smaller lettering due to the lack of space. That was the one about his tutoring of course (“Every evening Kevin shall devote four hours to SAT prep with Sam as his tutor”), but now the only thing not crossed off under number three was “Dammit Kevin, we’ve confiscated the markers!”. He snickered at that one.

Since his eyes had been focused upon that list as he walked towards the location of the coffee maker, he was more than a little surprised at the scene that greeted him in the kitchen. He had intended to continue straight forward to get to the coffeemaker, but it happened to be situated under the corner cupboard, and access to it was indefinitely blocked by the presence of two figures, pressed intimately close to one another. Neither one had noticed Kevin’s presence. Yet. They were far too preoccupied with each other to take notice of spectators. Cas’ back was pressed back against the counter, his shirt mostly unbuttoned, with Dean’s hand inching its way further and further downwards along his torso. Kevin was not sure how long he had stood there, unintentionally staring at the two lip locked lovers who had evidently been so overwhelmed with desire that they neglected to take it someplace more private. Beyond them he glimpsed the coffeemaker, sitting innocently on the shelf behind Cas with its red power light lit up, and Kevin weighed his options. He could turn around and tell Sam they’re out of coffee, or attempt to move towards the coffeemaker before Dean’s hand slipped its way into Cas’ pants, as it most certainly wanted to. Kevin opted to clear his throat just loud enough so that they might notice him. Broken from their reverie, Dean looked over at Kevin without being able to hide his embarrassment, but Cas simply greeted him.

                “Hello, Kevin,” said Cas, “It seems that you’ve…stumbled upon one of our nightly rituals again.” That had been the previous evening, when Kevin had gone to Dean and Cas’ room to see if Dean had any other writing utensils besides the ones that had been included in the bunker’s original inventory list. It was clear that they were preoccupied, so he left without asking and never made another complaint about being forced to write out equations with a pencil in danger of splitting in half. Kevin noticed the next morning that number ten on the list of house rules had been scribbled in at the bottom, reading: “Always knock before entering. KEVIN.”

                “What do you want, Kevin!? You’re…you’re supposed to be studying!” said Dean, clearly flustered but attempting to sound as natural as possible. Kevin Tran, whose vocabulary contained hundreds more words than the average adult human, might have used any number of them to answer. At that moment, however, he could not utter anything to do his superior lexical inventory justice.

                “Uhh…coffee…” he managed, eyes darting about the room. Dean took Cas by the arm and pulled him out of the way of the coffeemaker so that Kevin could use it. He was surprised to find that there was already a steaming pot of strong, dark coffee sitting in the pot. Kevin glanced at the two of them and then back at the coffee pot.

                “You can have it,” said Dean, “We were going to drink it earlier…” Kevin silently procured two clean mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter. He turned to open the fridge door, and jumped when he realized that Cas was standing there with a carton of half-and-half.

                “It’s not terrible,” said Cas, gesturing to the coffee, “I’ve been developing a taste for it…I think I’m beginning to like it, even. It will increase your memory and make you more alert for your studies.” Kevin rolled his eyes and took the carton from him.

                “Yeah, thanks,” said Kevin, twisting off the cap.

                “Cas, kid needs his coffee. Give him space,” said Dean.

                “I was just telling him about the benefits of moderate coffee consumption…” said Cas, frowning, “It can also lower the risk of liver disease…” Nevertheless, Cas walked away from the fridge towards Dean. He pressed his lips against Dean’s briefly.

                “I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.” Kevin accidently dropped the spoon he was using to stir the coffee, and Castiel exited the room, leaving Kevin and Dean to the task of making normal conversation in an already awkward atmosphere. Kevin flipped the switch on the coffeemaker and the red light flickered off. Remembering that he had something to say again, Dean cleared his throat and asked:

                “Did you finish your lesson with Sam yet?” Kevin tossed the spoon he had dropped into the sink; spotlessly clean thanks to Sam’s obsession with keeping the place tidy. Sam would likely remind him later that he needed to wash it.

                “Just leave me alone!” said Kevin.

                “Look, our house…bunker, whatever…our freaking rules, okay? That means that retired prophets still need to do their homework…take their SAT…start living a normal life!” Finally Kevin lost his composure.

                “What do you mean, ‘normal’!? There’s no possible way for me to return to normal life, even if I try to pretend it is! Haven’t you all tried before!? And did it ever work out…!? No! It never did!” yelled Kevin, “So stop trying to tell me that you know what’s best for me, because you don’t have a fucking clue, do you!?” Dean stared back, surprised at the sudden outburst. Kevin thought he might have seen some look of concern on Dean’s face, some sense of pain from his words. Kevin abandoned the two mugs of coffee on the counter and stormed out of the room.

                “Kevin!” he heard Dean say as he left, but he tore out of the kitchen without a moment’s hesitation, finally frustrated to the point of tears which he wiped away furiously with the sleeve of his hoodie. He was fed up with all of it, all the assumptions that his life would be grand if he’d just go back to a normal life. If he’d just somehow go back to being concerned with test scores, being a mathlete, and writing essays to make the college admissions staff weep, they all assumed that he’d be alright.

                “Kevin…Kevin, just calm down…” said Sam, getting up from his seat at the dining table where he had been puzzling over the equations in the textbook. Kevin had not been looking ahead of him, and stumbled into Sam’s towering figure. He was startled for a moment when he realized that Sam had caught him in an embrace.

                “I don’t need any of your caring crap…” muttered Kevin, tears still streaming down his face, but he found himself without the will to resist anymore. He let his arms fall to his sides as Sam patted his head comfortingly. Kevin knew that he was afraid of the future, and realized that it was all too obvious to the rest of them as well.

                “You’re right, we don’t know…” he said gently, “We don’t know what’s best for you…we know that you’re afraid…” Kevin swallowed hard. “We’re looking out for you the best we can…all of us are.” Kevin shook his head.

               “But everything that happened…I can’t forget it…I’m not the same person anymore…” said Kevin in a muffled voice, “And no one outside of this bunker understands that…” It was then that Dean appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, having heard the conversation.

                “You said we all tried having normal lives, right? Well, here’s your chance…it doesn’t mean we’re going to kick you out the door, it’ll take time until you’re ready to be on your way. And I promise, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ve still got us, alright? But you have to give it at least one shot, for us…” said Dean. Sam let go of Kevin and put a hand on his shoulder.

                “Promise?” asked Kevin, “You promise that I can come back if it doesn’t work out?” Dean nodded. Kevin quietly agreed to their plan.

                “Well, in the meantime…can we at least cut the studying back a couple hours…? I’ve already studied differential calculus…it’s boring to go over it aga-“ Kevin stopped short of completing that sentence when he realized that Castiel has walked into the room, wearing nothing but his trench coat.

                “Dean, I would have waited but I forgot where you put the-!”

                “Cas, you’re not dressed!” said Dean, shielding the half-dressed Castiel from Kevin and Sam.

                “I don’t understand,” he responded, “I’m wearing the trench coat, just like you requested…” Dean’s face turned a few shades pinker as he quickly shuffled out of the room, pushing Castiel ahead of him and towards their bedroom. Sam simply sat back down at the table, seemingly unsurprised.

                “Promise me from now on that you’ll take these study sessions seriously,” said Sam, gesturing to the seat across from him. Kevin rolled his eyes for the final time that evening and took his seat once again, snatching the textbook away from Sam to observe his tutor’s work. Sam had been concentrating on solving a particularly difficult question, but had miscalculated at several different points, making his work hard to decipher.

                “You’ve got this all wrong,” lamented Kevin, looking over Sam’s work, “All wrong. Let me show you how to do this…we’ll start from the beginning.”

                “I take that as a yes?” asked Sam. Kevin grinned.

                “Are you certain you passed basic high school math?” asked Kevin, getting a kick out of teasing Sam. He was in a better mood than he had been in all week. Sam could only smile. The kid could be annoying, but considering all he had been through, he knew he was strong. Whatever future awaited him, Sam was convinced that the prophet would make it through.


End file.
